


Atonement

by tinydooms



Category: The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Series
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Trauma, World War One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27521560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinydooms/pseuds/tinydooms
Summary: Jonathan sits in the rain. It is cold outside; his breath streams out into the air, swallowed by the unending curtain of water falling all around him. The rain seeps through his coat, soaks his hair, pools around his feet, but Jonathan does not move.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 17





	Atonement

**Atonement**

_March 1917_

Jonathan sits in the rain. It is cold outside; his breath streams out into the air, swallowed by the unending curtain of water falling all around him. The rain seeps through his coat, soaks his hair, pools around his feet, but Jonathan does not move. Oh, he could go into the house if he wanted; could go have a cup of tea with Mother or hole up in Father’s study or go write a letter to Evie at Oxford. He doesn’t _have_ to be sitting out here in the rain. But if Jonathan goes inside to warmth and comfort, it will be a betrayal. 

They are out there now, his friends, his men, out there mired in the Flanders mud. They are under fire from cannons and snipers and bombs, their trenches filled with mud and lice and shit, mustard gas and the stench of rot from a thousand corpses filling their noses. The garden Jonathan sits in is winter-dead, clean and tidy. The only scents that assail him are wet earth and cold, fresh air. The only sound is the falling rain. 

Jonathan cannot fight. Indeed, he has only just begun to walk again. “Shot in the arse” is how he describes the wound to any who have the audacity to ask, downplaying the nastiness of the wound caused by shrapnel cutting through buttocks and thigh. The doctors tell him it’s a miracle that he didn’t lose the leg; that he was pulled from the battlefield and sent to hospital before infection set in. They tell him it is a miracle that he is alive. 

It does not feel like a miracle. It feels like desertion. 

Jonathan swallows hard against the tightness in his throat. He has abandoned them, his friends, his brothers-in-arms, and now they are dying in the Flanders mud while he sits out in the dreary March rain. Soon someone will notice him, will rush out to bully him back onto his crutches and into the house. But for now Jonathan sits and hates himself, hates the men who sent them all to die in the mud, hates the world for being such a cruel and unforgiving place, trying to atone in the pouring rain.

Author's Note: this was written for a prompt over on Tumblr. If you want to request a story, [please feel free](https://tinydooms.tumblr.com/ask)!


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